


Five times Sherlock ended up in hospital (and one time he didn't)

by ColdeLinke



Series: 5 times + 1 [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Times, Angst, Blood, Drug Use, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 21:45:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2597522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColdeLinke/pseuds/ColdeLinke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title says it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five times Sherlock ended up in hospital (and one time he didn't)

1.

It's a seven-percent solution. It's _perfect_. Sherlock picks it up and smiles. He swings alongside the music, dances a bit, the syringe in his hand. He's still high, God it feels good. He hums. He presses the syringe against his arm, exhales, pushes. He can feel the heroine enter his veins, can feel it dance with his blood. He smiles. God, it feels good.

He falls to his knees, eyes narrowing. The syringe falls to the floor, and he grips his arm as if it hurts. He's not singing anymore, not smiling, not dancing. It hurts. He exhales, tears leaving the corner of his eyes. He drops on his front, cries out. No one hears him, he's dying.

He wakes up disoriented. His head hurts, his arm does too. He groans. His hands cling to the sheets. It takes him a while to remember how he got there, and he can't even open his eyes yet. He hears some voices but can't understand what they're saying. He falls under again.

When he wakes up next, Mycroft is there to scold him. He tells Sherlock their parents can't come see him like this, Sherlock scoffs. They're probably in Boston, at this time of the year. Mycroft is furious, Sherlock rejoices in it.

He leaves two hours after he's waken up, leaves the nurses to find his bed rumpled, but most of all empty. He can almost hear Mycroft's shout of irritation from across the town. He chuckles.

 

2.

It happens at the beginning of his very pleasant trip. He gets into a fight with several guys who kick his ass. They leave him for dead in an alley, and someone finds him, soothes him with words he doesn't understand, and calls for an ambulance. He only understands that when he hears the noise it makes as it comes towards them. He screams.

"No, no! Don't let them take me, don't let them take me!"

But the person he shouts at doesn't understand a word he says, and the paramedics just think him delirious and injects a dose of someth — some — he blacks out.

He wakes up feeling groggy and drugged up. He has no idea where he is, people speak in a language he doesn't know and can barely recognize. He has two broken ribs, his arm is in a sling, and his jaw hurts. A lot.

He can't let them know who he is. He can't have anyone recognize him. So, when he's sure no one will enter his room for the next thirty minutes, he flees. Slowly, because his ribs are burning. He steals a car, drives only for half an hour, then stops at a hotel because otherwise he is going to collapse and drives the car into a wall, and won't that be fun, dying in a country where he knows no one except for criminals, where he'll die alone, never hearing the sound of John's voice again, never touching him again. He falls asleep on top of the covers, smiling at the thought of John.

 

3.

"You almost died," is what he wakes up to. He blinks, once, twice, sees John's frowning face. "You almost fucking died, you twat."

"Oh."

"Oh? Is that all you have to say?"

John looks furious. That is never good. Sherlock frowns, looks at John's disheveled hair and the t-shirt he's clearly been wearing for two days. He has bags under his eyes, his arms are crossed and he taps the floor with one of his foot as he waits for Sherlock's answer. Sherlock doesn't give him one. He just stares at him, not quite sure what to say.

"Well," John spits out. "Care to tell me who the hell shoot you then?"

Sherlock opens his mouth, closes it. He tries again.

"I don't —" he coughs, John hands him a glass of water, although reluctantly. John, ever the doctor. Sherlock almost smiles.

"When was I out of surgery?" John fumes. If eyes could kill, Sherlock thinks, he'd be dead at least twice by now.

"A surgery you shouldn't even had had. And approximately 22 hours."

The very fact that he counted tells Sherlock every thing he needs to know.

"Well, at least Mycroft's not there to piss me off," he says cheerfully.

He spoke too soon, apparently, because his brother comes into the room and raises an eyebrow at him, silently saying: "Really?"

Sherlock sighs.

 

4.

He knows it's just a ghost, someone who pretends to be Moriarty to taunt him, to ridicule him once more. He knows it, and yet it doesn't mean that the threat isn't real. Actually, it's worse, it scares him to death, because who knows what someone who admires ( _admired_ ) Moriarty might do. So, of course he crosses the cold river to get to the other side, even it's the middle of winter, even if it's frozen and his limbs freeze too. Because John is on the other side, and what is more important than saving him? His skin turns cold and his lips turn blue, but he gets to the other side and Moriarty's ghost is dead and John's warm hands are closing up around his own, and it's burning and he's too hot and he prays that no one does a thing because dying in John's arms would be the best way to leave. He closes his eyes for what he hopes is the last time, John's desperate voice barely an echo in his fading mind.

He wakes up in an hospital bed and he hears John's relieved voice and Mycroft's exasperated one. Everything hurts and sometimes he feels like he can't breathe, but then he thinks of John alive and the oxygen comes back. He sleeps a lot and he dreams too, dreams he thought he'd deleted that come back to the surface when he doesn't, when he drowns instead of getting to the other side, which means he is dead and John is dead and that is unacceptable. Each time he wakes up, he is relieved to see that John is asleep in the chair beside his bed, or on the other side of the glass drinking a cup of coffee and talking to Lestrade. And he doesn't escape from the hospital because John would kill him, and Sherlock can't have John angry at him at the moment, because the thought of him leaving is too much, too much, it makes his heart clench in his chest and it's too much like drowning.

 

5.

He runs inside faster than he ever has been, he races through the corridors, bumps into people and doesn't apologize, curses at nurses who won't tell him where his friend is, shouts at doctors who won't tell him how his friend is. It takes Mycroft to make them spill it out.

He paces in front of room 431, wriggling his hands and sometimes passing them in his hair. He only enters when he hears the "Get the hell in here already" that John says loud enough from there to hear from the other side of the door.

His breath catches when he sees John lying on the bed, attached to it by tubes and all sorts of things, his face bruised, a tired smile on his face.

"John," he breathes out, unable to say anything else. Sherlock can't believe he's actually alive. He's seen him fall, seen the way John's eyes widened, heard the noise his neck made. He remembers everything too perfectly, and knows it will haunt him for a while.

"Come here," John makes a gesture and Sherlock approaches.

"I can't lose you," Sherlock whispers, "I can't lose you, I can't lose you, you hear me John? I can't lose you, I couldn't bear it, you're not allowed to die before me, I will kill you."

John takes his hand, ignores his mumbling, exhales.

"Sherlock," he calls, twice, three times, until finally Sherlock looks into his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

They say nothing more, Sherlock sits next to John's bed, watches his eyes close and his body relax. He has to check twice to make sure John is simply asleep and nothing else.

 

+1.

"John, I'm fine, really," he says, exasperated. "It's only a cut."

"A cut?!" Sherlock winces at the loudness of John's voice. "You've dropped a pint of blood! But no, Mister Sherlock Holmes is always right, he knows better than a bloody doctor!"

"Don't make me go back there." John's eyes narrow. He thinks Sherlock is just shamming.

"Please, John," he says, grasping his hand. "I can't go back there, not after the last time we were there."

They both know what Sherlock is talking about, and John's eyes soften. He squeezes Sherlock's hand back. He knows Sherlock has been having nightmares, but he doesn't know what they are about.

"Alright. Just — Just, let me take care of that," he gestures at the cut. "Sit down," he says, using his military voice, and Sherlock does.

"Don't move."

He doesn't. They stay like this for a while, Sherlock staying still while John hurries around him, stitching up his arm and clearing all the blood away. "Here, all done," he says as if to a child. Sherlock almost expects him to hand him a lollipop.

"Don't do anything dangerous until your arm is better. And by dangerous," he says before Sherlock has time to open his mouth, "I mean no case, no experiment and no violin."

"How am I going to survive that?" Sherlock protests.

"You'll live," John scoffs.

Sherlock moves to the sofa and sulks. John doesn't react. He moves around the flat, sometimes sitting in his chair to read an email on his laptop, or goes into the kitchen to answer to his phone. He leaves Sherlock alone, and Sherlock despises that.

He walks up to John in silence, puts his arms around John's body, hugs him from behind. He poses his head on John's shoulder and sighs. He can almost feel John's smile.

"You big baby."

"Hey!"

**Author's Note:**

> As always, English is not my native language, and this isn't beta-read so please forgive me for any mistakes.  
> I'd be happy to receive any prompts (for another 5+1 or something else) so if you have any ideas, please send me a msg on my tumblr (my url is cursedangelbrokenman) :) 
> 
> (Also, I cheated a bit with 5 because it's supposed to be Sherlock in the hospital, but shhh)


End file.
